


sharpened

by cataclysm_dialogue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Knife Kink, Knife Play, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cataclysm_dialogue/pseuds/cataclysm_dialogue
Summary: “Are you sure you’re ready, dear one?” Obi-Wan asks, care in his voice. Obi-Wan is always so caring, Anakin thinks. Even when he's quite literally about to slice him open. And Anakin can't wait.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	sharpened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xeniaraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/gifts).



It starts on the battlefield. Anakin gets cut by a stray piece of metal that goes flying through the air as a battle droid is destroyed. His first instinct is anger at the pain. But then, he glances at the wound, which is now seeping blood through his clothes. Warmth. He almost feels...pleasure. Pleasure? That’s insanity, he thinks. He’s wounded. He likely needs medical attention, and he’s standing here like some pervert who gets off on being hurt. He shakes the feeling off and continues fulfilling his duty as a General.

\---

“Are you all right, Anakin? You seem rather jumpy...more than usual.” Obi-Wan smiles at him in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it’s futile. He can’t tell Obi-Wan this. They’re in the medbay, and Anakin is waiting to be checked over, his upper arm still bloody from where it was cut. Obi-Wan looks at Anakin with an understanding in his eyes that’s far too keen for someone who shouldn’t know what’s going through Anakin’s head. He looks at Anakin’s arm.

“I know I’m no medic, but would you mind if I took a look at that? Just a preliminary check to ease my mind.”

Anakin shrugs, wanting to seem as nonchalant about the whole situation as possible, saying “Sure, go ahead,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Obi-Wan moves Anakin’s clothing from his shoulder, revealing his upper arm above the prosthetic and tapping a finger lightly at the laceration. 

“Hmm, it’s not as bad as I thought, from the bleeding.” He pulls his hand away, and Anakin sees that there’s a bit of blood on his fingertips. He stares at it, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“See something you like?” Obi-Wan asks, half playfully and half sardonically. Then, Anakin can see the realization dawn on him. Now he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life. He moves to stop Obi-Wan’s train of thought before it can go too far.

“It’s not like that. I’m just...shaken up is all. Just forget about it.”

But Obi-Wan has spent enough time taking Anakin apart piece by piece under his hands that Anakin knows he knows Anakin is lying. He can see it in his eyes. He knows Obi-Wan is about to make a bold move. Obi-Wan steps in closer again, and drums his fingers against the cut on Anakin’s arm. Anakin whimpers.

“Oh, I see. _Very_ interesting, Anakin. I know what’s happening here. You _like_ the pain. And more than that, you _want_ to bleed, don’t you, dear one? You want me to make you bleed all over yourself as you stroke your pretty cock and try not to come all over yourself, don’t you? Well I have good news, Anakin. As soon as we get home, I can make that exact situation happen. You just need to be patient for a little bit longer, all right?”

Anakin can do nothing but nod.

\---

The trip home is torturous for Anakin. The bacta patch on his arm feels like a brand rather than a balm, and all he thinks about is Obi-Wan sharpening a vibroblade, preparing to sink it into his skin, leaving behind a crimson trail of blood. Even looking at Obi-Wan proves to be too much, so he excuses himself and seeks privacy away from Obi-Wan’s knowing eyes.

\---

Council report given, Anakin feels like he is flying a few inches above the ground as he tries to keep his pace even as he walks to Obi-Wan’s apartment. No matter how sordid the idea, his mind has latched onto it, and knives may as well be physically manifesting in front of his face for how strong their presence is in his head. When he finally reaches the door to the apartment, he doesn’t even bother to knock. He just opens the door and walks in. His judgment has been so jarred by the possibility of this actually happening, what little care he had for decorum has vanished into thin air, soaring away on wings of his own unsavory desire. He’s fallen in love with the very concept of his beloved, gentle Obi-Wan making him hurt, making him _bleed_ , and now nothing but that dark caress of pain and pleasure will satisfy him. The idea that maybe he could lose _too much_ blood if something goes wrong doesn’t even faze him. If anything, he’s come to a state of almost pleased acceptance, imagining himself lightheaded and bloody in Obi-Wan’s arms, completely at his mercy. And, oh, he knows Obi-Wan would take such good care of him, bandaging his wounds and holding him until the color returned to his cheeks and the strength to his limbs. It would be nothing like being wounded in battle. No, he’d be bringing it about of his own volition, and he’d be _home_ , with Obi-Wan cradling him in his hazy sleepiness. Sedated by his own design, with Obi-Wan at his side. 

“..-akin? Anakin?”

Anakin realizes Obi-Wan is talking to him. How long has he been standing in the entryway of Obi-Wan’s apartment? He looks at Obi-Wan and smiles, a bit sheepishly.

“Hi, Obi-Wan,” he says simply. Then he notices it. The vibroblade. It’s already in Obi-Wan’s hand. He must want this just as much as Anakin does, and the thought makes Anakin harden in his pants. His shy smile turns into a smirk and he says, “So, what do you plan on doing with that knife? Because I have a few ideas.”

Obi-Wan unexpectedly places the blade down on the kitchen table, and strides up to Anakin confidently, wrapping his arms around Anakin’s neck and breathing out, “First, kiss me.”

So Anakin does.

It starts out slow and soft, as many of their kisses do, but this time, instead of Anakin being the aggressor, it’s Obi-Wan. He traces the seam of Anakin’s lips, and Anakin gladly grants him access. Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s bottom lip between his teeth. And he bites down. Hard. Anakin can feel blood start to pool in his mouth, coppery in taste and warm. Obi-Wan slides his tongue back into Anakin’s mouth, sliding against Anakin’s tongue, the two of them sharing in the evidence of Anakin’s first wound. When they break apart, Anakin licks his lips and prods the bite with the tip of his tongue. It still stings, but the pain has lessened to a dull throb, and he finds it pleasant. Comforting, even. An anchor to the physical realm. He looks to Obi-Wan, who is looking at him cautiously.

“So, that was all right with you, Anakin? Because if not we can stop right now and I’ll be perfectly fine.” Obi-Wan, as steadfastly caring as ever, Anakin thinks to himself warmly.

“No, Master,” Anakin answers, the title slipping through his lips easily. “I want this. I _loved_ that. I want more...and I know I shouldn’t.”

Obi-Wan wraps an arm around Anakin’s waist, saying, “Anakin, you never have to feel bad for anything you want to try with me. I promise I will always accept you. With that in mind, what’s your color?”

Anakin, feeling reassured, looks at the blade on the table again, and confidently looks Obi-Wan in the eye as he replies, “Green, absolutely green, Master. I want this _so much_.”

At this, Obi-Wan smiles, holding out his free hand to Anakin and saying, “Then, dear one, let me take you to bed now.”

Anakin follows.

When they arrive in Obi-Wan’s bedroom, Anakin feels his heartbeat start to increase. Fear? No, not fear. Excitement. He’s decided something. If he’s going to die one day, and he expects he will, he wants Obi-Wan to be the one to take his life. Something so intimate as hearing his last breath, as watching the light fade from his eyes as the gleam of life is extinguished, that should belong to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan alone. If he were an animal, he’d want to be hunted and caught by Obi-Wan. If he were a flower, he’d want it to be Obi-Wan’s hand that ripped off his delicate petals and crushed his stem. And so now, as a human, Anakin prepares for Obi-Wan to bestow upon him a little taste of death in its most pleasurable form.

As Anakin feels Obi-Wan sliding his robes off his shoulders, he sighs softly, looking at Obi-Wan’s face in the dimming light of sunset. Whoever or whatever made Obi-Wan must’ve really outdid themselves in the beauty department. Obi-Wan’s reddish hair, one strand now falling out of place. Obi-Wan’s clear blue eyes, twin seas that have just weathered a storm. Obi-Wan’s perfectly groomed beard, framing his face impeccably. Obi-Wan’s freckles, dotting his shoulders and arms. And, Force, Obi-Wan’s strong yet lean arms, muscles moving beautifully beneath that creamy skin. Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan. Anakin’s mind is saturated with Obi-Wan, and he wouldn’t desire anything else. He can’t wait for Obi-Wan to hurt him.

He realizes that both of them are now divested of their robes, and chuckles inwardly. He was so busy waxing poetic about Obi-Wan in his mind that he didn’t even notice he was being undressed, or that Obi-Wan was undressing himself. How long was he thinking about Obi-Wan? No matter, he thinks. No time spent thinking about Obi-Wan Kenobi is time wasted. He lies back on the bed, feeling himself slightly shiver as a draught breezes through the room. Obi-Wan holds the blade in his hand, calmly prepared for what’s to come next. 

“Are you sure you’re ready, dear one?” Obi-Wan asks, care in his voice. Obi-Wan is always so caring, Anakin thinks.Even when he's quite literally about to slice him open. And Anakin can't wait.

“Yes, please, Obi-Wan, I want it so bad.” Anakin wriggles a little bit from where he lies on his back on the bed in Obi-Wan’s apartment, trying to encourage Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan holds a razor thin vibroblade in his hand, poised like a predator but giving off the aura of the lover and friend who he is to Anakin. He looks down at him and smiles gently, but with a gleam in his eye that indicates his excitement.

“All right, if you’re ready, then I am.” Obi-Wan takes the blade and swiftly slices a thin, shallow laceration, right above Anakin’s hipbone. Anakin hisses in pain, even though he knew it was coming. He can feel the droplets of blood start to pool at the opening of the cut, but he has no time to worry about anything dripping on the bed, because Obi-Wan uses his free hand to wipe them up, coating his palm in the red liquid that is Anakin’s lifeblood. 

Now he leans over Anakin, bloody hand reaching towards him, and cradles his cheek, leaving a red handprint behind. Obi-Wan brushes his thumb against Anakin’s lips, and Anakin does something he never thought he’d do in a million years.

He opens his mouth.

He swirls his tongue around Obi-Wan’s thumb, tasting his own blood. It’s a bit salty, with a metallic undertone, but the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes has Anakin feeling like it’s suddenly the most delicious thing in the world. He grabs ahold of Obi-Wan’s wrist, sucking his blood off the other fingers, running his tongue between them to lap up every last drop, licking long stripes across Obi-Wan's palm. It’s a heady feeling, tasting one’s own blood, Anakin thinks. Addicting. Once Obi-Wan’s hand is cleaned, Anakin looks to him.

“I want more, Master.” Anakin doesn’t even recognize his voice. It sounds half strangled and much huskier than usual. He’s thinking more and more than he wants to bleed out by Obi-Wan’s hand, watch the red rivulets flow out of his body as Obi-Wan looks him in the eyes and watches them go dark. How gently he would hold him, how cleanly he would puncture Anakin’s vital organs. How sweetly he would kiss his forehead when his breathing stilled.

Anakin is jerked out of his reverie by Obi-Wan asking, “Do you want another one?” Anakin nods, quickly saying, “Yes.”

This time, Obi-Wan holds the blade to his cheek, not applying any pressure, saying, “Now, I wouldn’t want to be the one to scar this pretty face again, so let’s see, where can we give you just a little taste of this blade?” And he gently skims the blade down to Anakin’s throat, then past his Adam’s apple and finally to his chest.

“Ah, here, I think.” And before Anakin can prepare himself, Obi-Wan has sliced a thin line into the left side of his chest. Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s flesh hand from where it lies at his side and smears it through the blood from this new cut.

“See? That’s you, dear one. Aren’t you so warm and vibrant? Your whole body is filled with that blood, pumping through your heart, keeping you alive. What an honor it is to see the very essence of your life, right here, dripping through our fingertips. How lucky am I that you allow me to know you this way, to see you this way, to have the pleasure of opening you up this way. And now, dear one, will you allow me the pleasure of opening you up in a different way. I’ll give you more of this; I promise.” And Obi-Wan leans in to press a kiss to the still open cut above Anakin’s hip. His warm lips against the slice in Anakin’s skin creates a sensation that makes Anakin shiver.

Obi-Wan keeps a hand on Anakin’s chest as he reaches for the lubricant that he keeps by his bed. His hand is stained red with Anakin’s blood, and it’s the most arousing sight Anakin’s seen in recent memory. But then again, everything about Obi-Wan is arousing to Anakin. His velvety, accented voice, the understated swagger he walks with, his compact, muscular body, his cock, hard and flushed now, hanging between his legs. Oh, Anakin wants to touch it. Wants it in his mouth. Wants it inside him, filling him up. Oh, and so soon it will be. He just needs to have Obi-Wan’s glorious fingers inside him, stretching him out, preparing him for his cock.

Obi-Wan squeezes lubricant onto his fingers, the clear substance mixing with Anakin’s blood on his hand. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the blood off. _Good_ , Anakin thinks. He sits up so he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs and saying, “Master, _please_.” And his former Master obliges him. Obi-Wan gently slides a finger inside him, feeling around softly, exploring Anakin from the inside in preparation for what is to come. Anakin whimpers.

“More, I can take more,” he says, slightly rocking his hips back and forth.

“Oh, I know you can take more.” And with his free hand, Obi-Wan expertly inflicts a thin slash on Anakin’s toned stomach, running his fingers through the blood and bringing one up to his lips, his pink tongue darting out to take just the smallest taste of Anakin’s blood.

“Oh, dearest Anakin, you really are _delicious_. I wonder if all of you tastes this good.” And keeping his finger moving inside Anakin, he immediately bends down and takes Anakin’s cock into his mouth.

Anakin’s back arches up off the bed so hard he feels the cuts on his body stinging in protest. He whines, grasping at the sheets of the bed with a still bloody hand, leaving red marks behind. His metal arm actually tears the sheets, ripping a hole in the fabric, but Obi-Wan either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He sucks Anakin’s cock enthusiastically, going about it like it’s a science. He hollows his cheeks out at just the right moment, laving his tongue around the head, and moaning like it’s the most amazing thing he could possibly be doing, sending vibrations through Anakin’s body that make him shudder. 

Obi-Wan adds another finger and Anakin really starts to feel the stretch, but he loves everything about it. He loves this feeling of Obi-Wan opening him up, readying him for his cock. The pleasure slowly starts to settle in to his bones. He’s a small fire being coaxed from a spark into a tiny spot of light and heat. And then Obi-Wan curls his two fingers whilst taking Anakin’s cock all the way to the back of his throat. The world goes up in flames. Anakin is no longer a slowly growing fire, but a roaring blaze, and he sobs his pleasure as though he were praying to an ancient deity, a deity who he calls out to, saying, “Master! Oh, Master!” He wants this fire to devour him, to take everything he has and leave him a pile of ash, all for just the chance to feel this pleasure a little bit longer. But at the same time, he needs it to stop. Oh, he needs it to stop or he’s going to come.

“Master! Master! No, no, no, stop!” Anakin wiggles away, away from Obi-Wan’s grip.

“Dear one, what’s wrong?” Obi-Wan stops immediately, and comes up to cradle Anakin in his arms, stroking his hair with a still slightly bloodstained hand. Oh Obi-Wan, Anakin thinks. Always so caring, so kind, ever looking out for Anakin’s well-being. He touches Obi-Wan’s face gently, saying, “Nothing’s wrong, Obi-Wan. I just don’t want to come yet.” Obi-Wan looks at him with pure adoration, and says, “Oh, my sweet Anakin. You are a treasure.” And he kisses Anakin’s head before reaching down to slide two fingers inside him again.

“I think you’re ready for me now, dear one,” he says, grabbing more lubricant and slicking up his own cock, groaning lightly as he strokes himself. Anakin hooks his arms behind his knees, spreading himself out obscenely for Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan climbs on top of Anakin, he grabs the vibroblade.

“Just one more thing,” he says. And then he slices Anakin open from sternum to belly button. The cut is shallow, but Anakin feels it like a swift and furious strike of lightning. He cries out “Ah!” both in pleasure and pain, but he keeps his arms where they are. Obi-Wan lazily strokes his cock with one hand while drawing patterns in Anakin’s blood on his chest and stomach.

“You look so pretty like this. Stretched out, hole open and ready to take me, blood dripping from you in crimson trails. Like a god of war, and of pain. But even gods have mercy, Anakin. And you’ve bestowed so much mercy upon me this evening. I think it’s time I return the favor.” 

And Obi-Wan leans down and sinks into him. And Anakin lets out a soft sigh of “Ohh, Master,” as he feels Obi-Wan’s thick cock slide deep inside him. Anakin feels Obi-Wan reaching into him, making them one, even if only temporarily, and he thinks only of how much he loves Obi-Wan’s cock. The silken texture of it, the thickness that always makes him feel like he’s being split open, the roundness of the head that always makes Anakin gasp when it slips in past that initial resistance. He knows it’s ruined him. He’ll never be able to be with anyone but Obi-Wan. Here, in this moment, Anakin feels Obi-Wan’s cock moving inside him and he thanks any and every deity that may exist for allowing him to have this.

Obi-Wan thrusts into him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the vibroblade, saying, “Look at you, Anakin, all bloody and needy for me. You want to be opened up in so many ways. By my fingers, by my cock, by my blade. It doesn’t matter to you, as long as I somehow get inside you.And oh, I love it. I love having my big cock inside your perfect, slick hole, pushing into you, becoming a part of you. Now I just want to flip you over, pin you down, _make_ you take it. Would you like that, dear one?”

“Ohhh, yes, Master,” Anakin keens. “I want that so badly; please give that to me. I want you to hold me down.”

Obi-Wan grips Anakin’s shoulder tighter, then pulls out of him. Anakin whines at the loss, but then he finds himself being flipped over onto his stomach, the long cut on his front staining the sheets with more blood. He feels Obi-Wan position himself above him, but instead of pushing his cock into him, Obi-Wan leans down to his ear and whispers, “Don’t worry, dear one. None of these will be deep enough to scar,” and then Anakin feels a slash on his right shoulder blade. He hisses, savoring the sting. He feels Obi-Wan’s hand running through the blood seeping from the wound, once again sliding patterns around on his back. This is heavenly. It’s the perfect combination of touch, a juxtaposition of the cruel and the kind, of the savage and the soft. It’s wickedly exhilarating, and Anakin doesn’t know if his slight lightheadedness is due to blood loss or simple heady desire. No matter. Either way, he feels Obi-Wan’s cock prod his entrance again, teasingly rubbing at his rim, and that’s all that matters.

When Obi-Wan slides home, Anakin can’t help but moan brokenly. He pushes back into the pressure, ignoring the stinging on various parts of his body. Then, suddenly, Obi-Wan is gone again, his cock no longer providing that delicious stimulation.

“I have an idea,” Obi-Wan says. “You look so pretty, all stained with your own blood. You should see it too. Come with me.” And he takes Anakin’s hand, helping him off the bed and leading him to the ‘fresher. He helps Anakin position himself bent over the sink counter, and grips his hips as he prepares to push back in.

“Dear one, look at yourself,” he says, reaching an arm forward to tilt Anakin’s chin upwards. 

And Anakin does.

He gazes at himself in the mirror, seeing for the first time with his own eyes the way he looks after Obi-Wan’s ministrations. His golden hair has a few ruddy streaks in it. A red handprint graces the side of his face, and there’s also a red smudge at the corner of his mouth. Swirly patterns of crimson adorn his chest and stomach, and he sees a thin line traveling from his sternum downward.

“Wow,” he breathes, and Obi-Wan smiles behind him.

“I know; you’re exquisite,” Obi-Wan says. And then he thrusts back inside Anakin. Anakin jolts against the sink counter in pleasure, squeezing his eyes shut from the pure intensity of the sensation.

“No, no, no, dear one. I want you to watch yourself take it,” Obi-Wan says, and he thrusts up into Anakin especially hard. Anakin opens his eyes at Obi-Wan’s request and sees himself again, now with cheeks completely flushed and eyes glazing over from the feeling of being fucked so hard and deep. And it’s pure. Anakin is covered with his own blood, but he feels _clean_ , like he’s being washed of all his wrongdoings. Like he’s new again, and he relaxes into the feeling, his breath slightly fogging up the ‘fresher mirror as he pants heavily.

In the hazy swirl of Obi-Wan fucking into him, Anakin just loses track of time and allows himself to _be_ . To enjoy the slide of Obi-Wan’s cock in and out of him, allowing Obi-Wan to give him all his love and not hold back. And when Obi-Wan grips Anakin’s cock and starts stroking, Anakin cries out, like a plea to something celestial, something bigger than him or Obi-Wan or the little apartment they’re in. This is heavenly. This is how Anakin Skywalker wants to die. He barely has time to say, “Obi-Wan, _Master_ , I’m gonna come,” before he’s spilling all over the floor and Obi-Wan’s hand, clenching down and then feeling Obi-Wan’s movements stutter, Obi-Wan’s hot come spurting into him, Obi-Wan breathily moaning, “Oh, Anakin…”

Anakin rests his head against the sink, exhausted. Obi-Wan gently rubs his back, saying, “Anakin, I love you and I loved that, but it’s really very important that we get cleaned up immediately so we can clean your cuts.” Anakin groans from where his forehead is touching the cool sink counter, but he stands up, feeling Obi-Wan’s now soft cock slide out of him.

“All right; let’s take a shower, then,” he says, smiling softly at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan turns on the shower, and beckons for Anakin to get in first. Anakin feels the hot spray of the water, painful against his cuts, but soothing. He watches as the water pooling by his feet reddens, the stream washing away all the blood on his body. Obi-Wan retrieves soap and gently washes Anakin’s body, giving extra care to the lacerated areas and murmuring, “You were so good, dear one. So good for me. You’re always so good.” Anakin is in a daze of love and pleasure. Obi-Wan takes such good care of him, always. He finds himself wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, putting his chin on his shoulder and saying, “I love you, Obi-Wan...so much.”

“And I love you, Anakin. With all my heart.”


End file.
